Misfortune
by Lady-Liar
Summary: The wrath of the woman you love can sometimes be preferred to that of her spiteful grandmother... Or so Zuko thinks...


To say he paced would be an understatement; to say he left a track in the snowy "earth" below him would be far from the truth. To say he melted every bit of ice and snow in the waiting area would be, unfortunately, one hundred percent truth.

"Shoo you! Shoo!" the old woman screamed behind him as he sped away, a half-hidden grin on his face as he followed Sokka down the street and ducked behind him into a small ally.

Sokka's laughter boomed through the street and the ally, his face split in two by the outrageous grin on his face. "You'll never be allowed back there," he choked, "No matter how many little brats she pops out."

"You should talk," Zuko snapped, coughing on the laugh he tried to trap in his throat, "I've never seen a man with so many children!"

Sokka paused, cocking a brow as he looked up at him. "Really?"

"Not that he knew the names of," he said, returning the grin to Sokka's face.

The two men eventually poked their heads out of the ally, looking back at the half-demolished healing-house at one end of the little square, which sat precariously in the center of the slow-growing Southern Water Tribe. When they deemed it safe to rush away from the woman who – they surmised – was practically steaming from the ears, to hide in Sokka's and Suki's home across town, Sokka chuckled.

"You'll have it in for you when you go back there, you know," he said, mangling his sentence as he slowed to a walk in front of his snowy home.

Zuko's brows drew down. "What're you talking about?"

"Katara," Sokka said, shoving the pelt that served as his front door aside and slipping easily into his home. Stepping across the tiny living space, he slouched down on one of the few non-snow items in the house; his couch. "She'll kill you when she finds out you burned down our health-house. Let alone that you ran off when she was in the middle of having your baby."

Rubbing at his forehead, Zuko sat beside him. "Our third, Sokka. She has to understand."

Sokka chuckled, patting him roughly on the back. "She won't," he said, "And you know it."

And Zuko did know it; he knew he was in for the yelling match of his life. But what was he supposed to do? That woman looked about ready to bend him under the ice until he either hit ocean or frozen earth, neither of which sounded particularly pleasant at the time.

He wouldn't have been much help there, anyway. Whenever she insisted on having her children in the Water Tribe with her Gran – as she had with their first – he wasn't allowed in the room. And, had he been allowed in the room, he probably would have fainted from nerves or fright – which he had done with their second when he had insisted with her birth maids in the Fire Nation, whom he was less frightened of than Gran. So, either way, he was doomed to be yelled at.

Unfortunately, this was different than both of the previous times. Both he had sat and he had waited then; sure, he had been unconscious for one, but he had _been_ there, something she'd reminded him of frequently when he'd begged her to let him simply wait outside, or stay at Sokka's until it was over; less chance of a beating from Gran or another fainting spell. But she'd insisted he stay in the waiting room until Suki or Gran came to fetch him; begged him to, for once, be utterly traditional in her birth nation.

So he'd agreed, as only a fool would, to his wife's tiny, knowing smile, and the way she slid her hand over his chest and lifted her brows in mock-worry. Worry that he might not do it; a worry, that, as the man who loved her, he would work to not fulfill.

Well, so much for that plan.

Rubbing at his temples on Sokka's couch, he waited. Sokka fetched them food, grumbling about Suki not being there to feed him when he was hungry as she did the children. And then, as if he'd called, all six children arrived, screaming and hollering and tearing through the house like tiny tornadoes. Sokka yelled as if he could control them, and only the eldest – a small girl of only nine, with brown hair and bright blue eyes – paused to look at him; though, after a moment, she did stick out her tongue with a giggle before grasping her little brother in her arms to swing him around and fling him at one of the softer-looking ice walls.

Zuko watched all of this with a mix of horror and amusement. His children almost never acted like this; causing such ruckus. Even with a touch of Sokka's blood in them. Of course, these children were raised by two of the most rebellious people Zuko had ever known; Sokka with his childish behavior that never disappeared, even after years of adulthood; and Suki, walking and acting like a man, even with her stomach wide with twins and her husband always reminding her of her "place in the world." It should not have been a surprise to him that they were so wild, so happy, and so loved. For Sokka did not pause in his laughter when his son hit the wall with a thud and a spray of snow covered the boy's laughing form on the frozen floor.

And then, an hour later, after Sokka had – mostly successfully – put all of his children to bed in their assorted rooms that stuck out awkwardly from his round igloo-shaped home, a young woman dashed in and yelped Zuko's name.

"You have been called to the health-house sir!" She nearly wept, clutching her stomach, her eyes wide with fear and exertion. Sweat beaded her brow and she wiped it away unthinkingly with her sleeve.

Afraid to ask what the girl was so terrified of; Zuko took off at a run for his wife and his child. Not only thinking of his own life, but thinking that maybe, maybe the girl was afraid, not for herself, but for Katara. For his wife. Or, just as horrifyingly, for his child.

Slipping unsteadily on the ice at his feet, Zuko grasped at buildings and rarely-placed benches to keep himself standing as he dashed toward, and then across, the suddenly-too-large square.

As he slid – and fell – in the ex-entrance room, the woman glared at him but did nothing against him, only pointed at the still-standing wooden door between him and his wife. As he placed his hand against it, he heard only silence.

His heart dropped into his toes.

Breathing deeply to try and dispel the sudden terror that pumped through his veins like shards of glass, he pushed the door open.

Katara, her face pale and drenched in sweat, lay, covered by a thick white pelt, on a rather-small bed. Alone. He stepped toward her, but was stopped by a lazy touch on his hand. He glanced down at Suki, who held something bundled in her arms. She smiled up at him, and his heart – which he hadn't noticed had stopped beating – flew into overdrive. A tiny face, its pale skin and nearly-black hair gleaming up at him, was half-hidden under her breasts. When he reached down to touch it, a quiet, tired voice broke the silence.

"You're lucky I love you," Katara said, and, when he looked up, distracted from his original mission, he noticed her narrowed, angry eyes, that were – fortunately for him – utterly dismissed by the prideful grin on her face. "Or it would be rather misfortunate – not only to you, but to me as well – what I would have to do to you for wreaking havoc on my heath-house and missing the birth of your third…" she paused, smiling softly as he raised his eyebrows, glancing back at their child, suddenly immensely curious. When he looked back at her, her grin widened and she beckoned him forward.

"What?" he whispered when he sat beside her on the bed and leaned down. "Do we have a son or a daughter?"

Katara brushed his hair away from his forehead and leaned up to press her lips to his. "Have I ever told you how glad I am you don't strive for a male heir?" She murmured, grinning.

"A daughter?" He breathed, turning to stare at the child that had begun to shift in Suki's arms. "We have another girl?"

All Katara did was nod as Suki brought their new child forward and placed her in Zuko's willing arms. "Congratulations, Zuko," she said, and, when she stepped back, she added under her breath, "For the life of your child _and_ your child-rearing bits."


End file.
